


Anything Your Heart Desires

by doubleohsandwich



Category: One Piece
Genre: Eventual Sex, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fake Marriage, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Mutual Stupidity, Practice Kissing, Villains, cringe is dead and i'm killing it out back with a shovel, listen i got to the one piece fandom very late pls go easy on me, turns into a real relationship tho, villains in love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:14:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27987549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doubleohsandwich/pseuds/doubleohsandwich
Summary: Did you know a married couple can't be forced to testify against one another in court? Crocodile does, and just thinks he's found the perfect solution to his lack of a trustworthy business partner in Amora Drace, a forgery prodigy and con woman. But between fake kisses and real tenderness, the lines between what's an act for the public and their true feelings blur. Have the two of them bitten off more than they can chew?
Relationships: Crocodile (One Piece)/Original Character(s), Crocodile (One Piece)/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 13





	1. The Letter

**Author's Note:**

> Cringe is dead and I'm killing it with a shovel out back...
> 
> In all fairness, I'm late to the One Piece fandom by many, many years. But I got this idea for a fic and decided to try my hand at writing again. I haven't written fanfiction in 5 years, in part due to stress and grad school, but also because my self-esteem took a dive in 2018 and has never recovered. I lost all confidence in my capability, and stopped sharing anything I wrote with anyone (if I could bring myself to write at all). I am posting this at the insistence of my girlfriend, who assures me it's not bad. IDK if anyone in the fandom is into Crocodile like I am... we'll see! If you like this fic, let me know! - D (they/them)

“A letter for you, ma’am,” said the innkeeper, passing a sealed envelope across the desk. The lady he had been renting a room to the past few nights looked at him over the rim of her sunglasses.

“... Thank you.” 

She slid payment for her room across the counter, taking the envelope as she did. Turning on her heel, she promptly left. After watching her hips sashay out the door, the innkeeper loosened his collar in a nervous sweat. Even under her scarf and wide sunglasses, he was sure that was the most gorgeous woman he ever hosted under this roof.

The lady sighed. What was it, another letter from an admirer? Unbearable in it’s prose, too, if she had to guess. The envelope was addressed to the false name she had used at the inn. She flicked open the seal with a long fingernail and gasped. It was addressed to her actual name on the inside.

Dear Ms. Drace,

You’ll have to pardon my uncovering of your newest secret identity. I’m aware you don’t want to be found. Rest assured, this information will remain private, as a show of good will. I had my associates deliver this letter to make you an offer. I’ve heard from reliable sources that you have a mind for business and can wheel and deal with the best of them. I’d like you to consider working for me. You’ll be compensated handsomely while working for me, so much that you can be certain you’ll never need another job. You’ll be working among some of the most talented individuals in the Grand Line, true professionals, not the sideshow carnies you’ve had to deal with the last few years. Most of all, you’ll no longer have to hide behind false identities to keep the wolves from the door. You’ll be under my protection, and I will personally see to your safety. We’ll discuss details in person. If you’re interested in my offer, be at Dock 1 of Nanohana in Alabasta in one month’s time. Consider the enclosed sum reimbursement for travel as well as an advancement. 

Yours,

Sir Crocodile

Hero of Alabasta

Warlord of the Seven Seas

Her hands trembled as she read the name. Could this be real? Sir Crocodile, one of the Seven Warlords of the Sea and one of the most dangerous men alive, offering her a job? She quickly folded the letter and shoved it in her purse to hide from prying eyes. This was bad. This possibly couldn’t get any worse. One of the most terrifying pirates of the Grand Line has tracked her down, knows her location and her cover name. Were his agents watching her right now? A bead of sweat trickled down her face. Worst yet, he had connections to the World Government.

What the hell was she supposed to do? She leaned against the wall of the inn, trying to catch her breath. She felt the sensation of being hopelessly trapped raise the hairs on her neck. If she went, she could be walking into some kind of ambush. If she fled, she already knew he could track her down. He could make a fortune just with that information alone. She’s made far too many powerful enemies already and irking a warlord felt suicidal. And if the offer was real? Well, she already knew that wouldn’t be the case. A deal like that is always, always too good to be true. As if she ever trusted the words of a man these days anyway. 

This is the first time in a long time Amora felt so cornered. She swallowed the fear rising in her throat and looked to the bright blue sky, like that would get more air in her lungs. It took several minutes for rational thoughts to come back to her. She dug into her purse for the envelope, dragging her thumbnail across the hefty stack of berrlli inside. From the sound and feel of the bills, she guessed it was at least a hundred thousand berri. 

“Well, the money’s real at least,” she muttered to herself. She started walking around the small town, blending in and collecting her thoughts. She worked every angle of the situation, but came to the same conclusion each time: if this was a trap, running would just delay the inevitable. She’d be captured one way or another. There was, however, the slim chance that the pirate warlord did intend to hire her, or that she could sweet talk him into not turning her in. Men always crumbled under her gaze, and as powerful as he was, Crocodile was still only a man. Alabasta was the only reasonable option. 

In the meantime, she decided to absolutely blow all the cash in that envelope. There was a good chance this was a last hurrah as a free woman, so why not treat herself? The boutiques here certainly didn’t have the latest fashion, but she was sure to find something to make herself feel good. Alabasta was a desert island, so clothes fit for the weather were a must anyway. She soon found a flowy white sundress with a plunging neckline that flattered her spectacularly. With the addition of some reasonable sandals, she went to the front with her purchases.

“Um, ma’am? This is way too much money.” She hadn’t bothered to look at the money till now. The flustered cashier wasn’t holding a stack of 1,000 berri bills as she presumed, but crisp 5,000s. 

“Oh! So sorry,” she replied, taking back the extra cash. She looked in her purse at the envelope. They were all 5,000 berri bills. “Actually, can you hold these purchases for me? I think I’ll have another look around.” The cashier smiled and nodded, putting them in a bag. An impish smile spread across Amora’s face as she scanned the racks of clothes.  _ Well, Mr. Crocodile sure knows how to impress a lady. _


	2. Journey to Rainbase

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote the first 3 chapters all as one chunk but I thought that was too much to put all into one chapter. I might change my mind later. Oh well.

It had been a few weeks at sea for Amora, aboard a passenger liner in the most expensive suite money could buy. She had spent an enchanting time sipping on delicate wine she bought from the ports the ship stopped at, reading, and watching sailors nearly stumble overboard as she smiled at them. The sea air was good for her skin and soul. But today, the crow’s nest called out that Alabasta was in sight, and it made her chest tighten. She ran her fingers through her loose curls, staring at her packed suitcase. The letter from Crocodile was still in her purse. Dock 1 of Nanohana, one month’s time. She half hoped no one would show, as if the letter was a humorless practical joke. Unlikely. No one would dare impersonate the Desert King himself. 

She checked her makeup in her compact, sharpening the corners of her eyeliner. She needed to look her best if she was going to live through this. Maybe if things went south, she could play the damsel in distress and con some sucker into rescuing her. There was no one capable of defeating the warlord, certainly not in Alabasta, but maybe some cannon fodder would slow him down, she thought. Her white hair framed her dark face well, but the ringlets were imperfect from weeks at sea. She practiced smiles, batting her eyelashes, but it wouldn’t calm the tension in her shoulders. Her eyes went icy as she dug her sharp nails into her palm. She had made it this far. Made it out of the clutches of every rotten liar that ever wronged her. She’d be damned if this was the end of her.

She stepped out onto the deck with her suitcase to feel the wind on her face as they approached port. She leaned against the railing and soon a shadow leaned beside her.

“You’re lookin’ rather serious, miss,” a gruff looking sailor said, eyeing her up and down. “A beautiful face like that should always wear a smile.” She couldn’t stop herself from rolling her eyes. 

“Is that so?”

“Hey now, I’m just makin’ conversation. What’s gotten so under your skin?”

“I don’t believe it’s any of your business.” 

“Hey, I bet I could put a smile on your face,” he crooned, leaning in to put a hand on her shoulder. She slapped it to the wooden railing in a second, piercing her sharp nails into the back of his hand. He yelped in pain, trying to pull away.

“You keep asking people for smiles and someone’s gonna show you their teeth,” she hissed. Venom coursed through her veins as another sailor came up, apologies falling from him like the blood that dripped from her nails. She let him go as his superiors dragged him away, shouting something about harassing the high rollers being bad for business. She flicked the blood off the side of the ship one finger at a time, lost in her thoughts as the boat got closer to its destination. 

She ship docked as the sailors ran around tying down all necessary parts. She was certainly eager to leave this boat, but stepping onto that dock was like walking into a lion’s den. She placed her black sunhat on her head and disembarked, the clack of her heeled sandals punctuating every step. Heads turned as she walked, but she stared straight ahead. She clenched her fist around her suitcase handle to keep from shaking, and strut with all the confidence she could summon to Dock 1. And there she would wait. 

She didn’t wait long. She hadn’t even gotten tired of standing before an expensive looking carriage pulled by 2 camels arrived in front of Dock 1. It was white wood with gold detailing, with an arched door and round windows, complete with plush purple velvet curtains. At first she thought it couldn’t be for her, until a man in a suit stepped out of the driver’s cab. He looked at a paper in his hand, then scanned the docks before locking eyes with her.

“Ms. Drace, I presume?” He put the paper in his breast pocket and approached her. “My name is Freed, one of the staff working for Sir Crocodile. I’ve come to escort you to Rainbase at his request.” He bowed, briefly making the bald spot on his head extremely visible in the harsh Alabasta sun.

“Oh. Pleased to meet you, Freed. I am Amora Drace, as you suspected,” she smiled warmly. A light flush came across his cheeks.

“The pleasure is mine, Ms. Drace. Please, allow me to take your bags.” He swiftly packed her suitcase into the carriage, despite Amora being perfectly capable of doing so herself. She had learned not to make a fuss at these things, it ended up being more trouble than it was worth. Freed offered her hand to help her into the carriage, and she was a bit blown away by how expensive the interior looked. Cushioned seats that matched the curtains, a bottle of champagne chilling in a bucket of ice… Just how rich was Crocodile exactly? She sat carefully, thanking Freed again with a smile.

“My pleasure, Ms. Drace. Here,” he reached inside his suit jacket again, pulling out an envelope much like the first one she had received. “From Sir Crocodile. If there is anything I can do to make your trip more comfortable, please let me know. We will depart post haste.” She took it from him curiously, staring after him as he shut the door. Peeking outside, she could see the crowd that had gathered to look at this marvel of a carriage all speaking in hushed whispers. Her eyes scanned the crowd, and she spotted someone out of place as the carriage began to move. A younger woman with raven hair and a purple cowboy hat stared after the carriage, watching carefully. Surely this was one of Crocodile’s agents. Her experience told her there would be no way he sent one butler to pick her up.

She sighed and let the curtain fall. Taking in the lush interior, she wondered what exactly Crocodile was planning with all this. He certainly wasn’t trying to be subtle. In fact, this whole scenario drew far more attention to her than she liked. What did he gain by making such a show of it? She pondered as she flicked open the envelope as before. 

Dear Ms. Drace,

I’m pleased to see you are interested in my offer. I apologize for not receiving you in person, as I had urgent business to attend to. Help yourself to the champagne, I picked it out myself. I sent one of my best agents to watch over you during your journey to Rainbase, as such, you can be sure of your safety. Please relax and enjoy yourself, Ms. Drace. Join me for dinner tonight and we’ll discuss the details of your employment. I look forward to meeting you. 

Yours,

Sir Crocodile

“Hmm. Just ‘Sir Crocodile’ this time, huh?” She mumbled to herself. Again, not a single detail about the job offer. At least he seems polite, though, as she thought about this morning’s altercation on the ship. She played absentmindedly with the window tassel. What kind of man was Crocodile, she wondered. She tried to remember what his wanted poster looked like. Jet black hair, slicked back. Cigar in his teeth. Large scar across the middle of his face from ear to ear. He had some sort of hook on one hand, right? That was all she could recall. Her imagination filled out the rest of him with a strong, square jaw, maybe a beard. Pirates tended to have beards. Broad shoulders, stereotypical captain’s coat. Then again, he was one of the Seven Warlords. He probably didn’t resemble a stereotypical pirate at all. Whatever he looked like, she was sure to recognise him instantly from the sheer power he radiated. This would be the most powerful person she had made a deal with, ever. Maybe the last, if things went poorly enough. 

She shook it from her mind. Maybe a glass of champagne would calm her nerves? She removed it from the bucket of ice, relishing the touch of cool glass in this heat. She didn’t recognize the label, but from the look of it, this was a bottle of expensive bubbly. She took a sip, and found the flavor surprisingly light. Peachy, almost. She continued to sip on her glass as she contemplated whether her sundress was appropriate for evening wear. 

The ride went on, in unbearable heat, melting the ice bucket as surely as it was melting Amora. She imagined Freed might have it worse, being in a suit and all. Then again, maybe he was used to it. She fanned herself with the envelope and did some light reading till the sun started to set. Turning in her seat, she opened the little window behind her to speak to Freed.

“Mr. Freed, when will we be arriving in Rainbase?”

“Oh! Soon, Ms. Drace.”

“Will it be nightfall when we arrive?”

“Most certainly. Sir Crocodile is expecting us around 8 o’clock.”

“Hmm,” she thought, looking down at her white sundress. “In that case, I’ll change into an evening gown. Thank you, Mr. Freed.” The older man squirmed in his seat as she shut the sliding window. Maybe she had a little too much champagne, then, if she had decided to announce that she’d soon be naked in this carriage. No matter. His discomfort was his problem. She opened her suitcase, looking for the expensive dark blue evening gown she bought earlier. Well, if she was going to die tonight, at least she would look to die for in this dress.

Under the sparkling stars of the Alabasta sky, the carriage arrived in Rainbase. Amora peeked out the window again to see shining lights and a city bustling with nightlife. Restaurants, casinos, night clubs: Rainbase was a thriving metropolis in comparison to the little towns she had been through on her journey here. As thrilling as it was, she couldn’t help the feeling of dread that crept over her. It almost made her sick. She opened a window for some cool night air, head swimming with worry. She slid open the small gap behind the driver’s cab as well. Maybe it was the champagne, maybe it was the feeling of jaws closing around her, but she wanted someone to confide in.

“Mr. Freed?”

“Yes, Ms. Drace?” She hesitated before replying, words caught in her mouth.

“What… kind of man is Sir Crocodile?” Freed tilted his head as he thought about his answer.

“A businessman, through and through.”

“Is he a good boss?” She asked, voice growing softer as she rested her chin on her hand.

“He’s stern, but fair I’d say. Pays well. The people of Alabasta love him. He’s a local hero, you know. He keeps the peace and protects our towns from marauding pirates,” he trailed on cheerfully. He seemed to hold Crocodile in high esteem himself. It made her feel a tiny bit of hope. She listened, before gently admitting something that she normally wouldn’t.

“Mr. Freed… I’m terribly frightened to meet Sir Crocodile…”

“Oh, Ms. Drace,” he sympathized, turning in his seat. “You needn’t worry. Sir Crocodile is an intimidating figure, but an absolute gentleman. And between you and I…” he lowered his voice to just above a whisper. “He’s a stoic man, but myself and the other veteran staff can tell what he’s feeling. He was irate he couldn’t meet you in Nanohana himself. The staff has been preparing for your arrival for days now. I daresay Sir Crocodile might actually be excited to meet you.” She pondered at that for a moment, and honestly didn’t know if it made her feel better or worse that he was excited to meet her. 

“Thank you, Mr. Freed,” she said, sliding the little window shut again. She fiddled with her jeweled necklace. _A gentleman, huh?_


	3. Meeting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They finally meet! Hope you like it!

__ Soon enough, the carriage came to a stop. Half a bottle of champagne was probably a bad idea on a nervous stomach, and she felt it. The door to the carriage opened, and with it, a rush of cool air like a shock to her system. She took Freed’s hand as she carefully stepped out, looking up the stairs of an enormous golden casino. Throngs of casino-goers were gathering, staring at her in hushed whispers. To her own admission, she was lovely to stare at right now. Wearing a deep blue, asymmetrical evening gown patterned with black silk roses, her neckline graced with glittering necklace, and her long brown legs emerging from the front hem of her gown, the stares were warranted. She stared up at the glittering pyramid before her, blown away by its majesty and splendor. Was this the right place? She clutched her purse nervously. Freed’s voice from beside her gave her a start.

“Ms. Drace, don’t worry about your luggage. I will have it delivered to your room.”

“My room…?” She hardly had the chance to ask when the wind around her picked up sharply. A whirlwind of sand grew on the steps of the casino, but curiously, the furious gust barely tousled Amora’s hair. The sandstorm condensed, then suddenly cleared. Standing where it had just been was an incredibly tall, spectacularly well dressed man. She couldn’t hold back her gasp. 

Jet black hair, slicked back. Scar across his face from ear to ear. Gleaming golden hook on one hand. A cigar in his teeth, lips curving into a smile. He strode straight to her, eyes locked on her face. He was even taller and broader up close.

“Crocodile,” his deep voice cut the silence of the staring crowd. He took his cigar from his lips with a hand glittering in golden rings. “Hero of Alabasta, and one of the Seven Warlords of the Sea.” He raised an eyebrow to her, slight grin still on his face.

“Drace Amora,” she replied, smiling the best she could muster despite her fear. “Pleasure to meet you finally, Sir Crocodile.” She extended a hand to him. Grin widening, he lifted her hand with the back of his hook, bending over to kiss it softly.

“The pleasure is all mine, Ms. Drace.” A jolt of fear ran down her spine as she touched the cold metal, but something in her chest fluttered when he kissed her hand. “You look splendid. Care to join me for dinner?” He turned halfway, holding out the crook of his elbow for her to take. She stepped next to him, gently interlocking her slender arm with his. 

“How could I refuse such an invitation?” She looked up at him with her warmest bedroom eyes. He smiled again as he took a drag from his cigar, walking her inside the casino doors. 

The casino could not be brighter or busier had been lit on fire. The people were in a frenzy. Not only was Sir Crocodile here in the flesh, he just walked in with a mysterious woman on his arm! People gawked and shouted as they walked through, more than one lady let out a heartbroken cry at the sight. Amora tried to pay them no mind, as Crocodile waved lazily with his free hand to the crowd. They were halfway through when a man with a microphone jumped out at her, shouting something about how he was with Rainbase Quarterly. She jumped, heart pounding out of her chest, instinctively clutching harder to the strong arm she was holding. He was a harmless paparazzi, but she had been on edge ever since she arrived in Alabasta. In a flash, something dark was draped over her, shielding her from stares.

“That’s no way to act towards a lady,” Crocodile growled. The idiot before him cowered before hastily being removed by security. “No pictures, please. Respect the lady’s privacy.” She realized that Crocodile had thrown the corner of his fur-lined coat around her. It was warm and heady with the smoke of exotic cigars, and something more… earthy. Being this close to him, she could smell his rich cologne as well, not to mention feel the tensing of his incredible bicep through his jacket when she startled. For a moment, she felt that he might actually be the hero Freed made him out to be. A few more steps, and they were through a set of doors in the back labeled VIP. 

“Are you alright, Ms. Drace?” He asked, turning to face her as the coat fell off her shoulders. His eyebrows raised, he frowned somewhat apologetically. “I apologize for the behavior of my patrons. Perhaps we should have gone in from the back, to avoid the crowds.” His eyes scanned her face, trying to discern her emotions from it.

“Yes, I was just startled by it, that’s all,” she exhaled, hand over her heart as if to calm it. “But let’s not let it spoil the evening.” He hummed in agreement and they continued to walk down white-walled hallways to their destination. A pair of tuxedoed men opened the double-doors to reveal a grand marble staircase that descended into a room surrounded on all four walls with aquarium glass. Amora watched as enormous creatures passed, larger than most of the ships in Nanohana’s harbor. One swam close enough for the light to gleam off it’s slitted eyes and reveal a long, reptilian mouth lined with fangs all larger than she was. Her body went ice cold. She wanted to shriek and run, but it was far too late for any of that. He had her right where he wanted her.

In other circumstances, she might have been impressed by the candlelit dining table arranged before her. Fine china, white tablecloth, with silver flatware so polished she could see her own terrified reflection in it. It barely registered in her thoughts as she tried not to stare at the terrifying creatures that swam around them. Crocodile let go of her arm and for the briefest moment, she lost her balance, weak in the knees with fear. Crocodile was quick to steady her with his hand.

“You feeling alright, Ms. Drace?” He asked, but something about the question felt almost smug. She looked into his eyes and knew he had clocked her terror. It was clear he was in his element, and she was at a disadvantage in whatever negotiations were about to take place. She was determined not to give any more ground. 

“I’m a little tired from my journey, is all. I’m not accustomed to the heat here,” she lied, batting her eyes at him as she leaned on him more than needed. She gave his forearm a gentle squeeze. “Thank you, Sir Crocodile.” 

“Well then, let’s get you off your feet,” he said, guiding her to a chair. He pulled it back for her with his hooked hand, leaving a mark from its sharpened end behind as he pushed the chair in behind her. He circled the table and as soon as he sat, two staff members marched in with dishes in silver domes, depositing them before the pair before leaving as swiftly as they came. All the while the pair stared each other down, masks of politeness wearing thin, challenging the other to blink first. The door the servers came from clicked shut. They were alone.

Silence deafened. 

Neither fidgeted. 

Neither blinked.

Crocodile took a long drag from his cigar before calmly exhaling the smoke off to the side. 

“I’m impressed. Most people can’t hold it together once they see the Banana Gators.” He leaned back in his chair, almost as if he was showing off how at ease he was. “Very professional, but you can drop the act now that we’re alone.” On cue, her pleasant smile vanished.

“Why have you brought me here, Sir Crocodile?” She asked coldly. “The World Government got you doing their chores for them now?”

“Ms. Drace, if I wanted you dead, you’d be dead. And if I wanted to hand you over, you would have been ambushed at the docks.” He twisted the tip of his hook on the arm of his chair, mildly annoyed. “As the letter stated, I’d like you to work for me.” Amora stared him down.

“Awful lot of effort to go to for an employee.”

“Not for this job,” he grumbled, resting his cigar on a glass ashtray next to him. “And if you’re worth it, then it’s worth the effort.” He picked up a bottle of red wine and uncorked it with his hook. He raised an eyebrow at her, inviting her to partake. She lifted her glass to him and he gave both of them a heavy pour. She watched him take a drink before lifting her glass to her lips, still not certain she wasn’t going to be poisoned by dinner tonight. 

“You’re a man of means, Sir Crocodile. With all your connections and wealth surely you could find other candidates…?” She let her inquiry trail off. Crocodile closed his eyes for a second, before letting out a heavy sigh. She studied his face closely, his square jaw, the worry lines on his brow. It was then that she noticed, with surprise, the dark circles under his eyes. 

“It’s precisely because of these connections that I’m offering you this position. I needed someone independent, unaffiliated with the World Government or any pirate groups. Someone without old loyalties to honor,” he explained, beginning to eat the food in front of him. He ate silently for a moment before speaking again. “Food’s going cold the more you wait, Ms. Drace.” 

Amora let her shoulders relax. Surprisingly, death did not appear to be on the menu tonight. Instead, she had a job offer from a shockingly rich and powerful man. She took a dainty bite.  _ The food isn’t so bad either. _

__ They ate for a few moments in silence, tension still hanging in the air, but not quite as palpable as it was before. This time, the pair avoided eye contact, trying to act like they were not watching each other’s every move. They studied each other in turns, analyzing every expression, hoping to uncover the other’s true intentions. Amora was the first to speak.

“About this job… Is this a consultation or long-term employment?”

“Long-term,” he replied, taking a long sip of wine. Amora’s eyebrows popped up in surprise.

“I typically don’t stay in one place very long, you know.”

“You typically don’t use one name for very long either,” he quipped. “I already know some of what you’re on the run from. You won’t have to worry about any of them while you work for me.” She stared at the wine in her glass as she thought it over. It would be nice not to worry about being hunted down by everyone and their brother. Then the realization hit her.

“You wanted me because you have leverage,” she accused, narrowing her eyes into daggers. 

“I’ll admit, that was part of it. All deals go smoother with a little leverage,” he raised his hand, defending himself. “But you’re more than qualified. You’re business-minded, with a special talent for negotiations and mediation. You talked a country out of a full-blown coup. You’re a con, and a damn good one.” She smiled, but didn’t let up on her dangerous stare.

“Flattery will get you nowhere, Sir Crocodile.”

“See, that’s what I like. You got a level-head, and you don’t scare easy.” He grinned back at her, with an eagerness that was surprisingly genuine. It confused her. 

“So is that the job? Negotiation?” She pressed.

“That’s part of it,” he replied, digging something from his jacket pocket. She tensed with fright until he set it on the table between them. It was one of her old passports. “That’s the finest forgery I’ve ever seen. You have a gift, Ms. Drace. It would be a shame not to use it.” Her lips curled as she rested her chin on her hand. It was hard to contain her pride as he spoke, even though she knew Crocodile was trying to use that pride to win her over. She was feeling confident, like the tables might be turning ever so slightly in her favor. It was clear he had done his research and didn’t choose her out of the blue. Now she just had to figure out how badly he wanted her, and why.

“Well, Sir Crocodile,” she cooed. “It certainly sounds like you want the full array of my talents at your disposal. What am  _ I _ getting out of this?” Crocodile looks her in her eyes and leans on to the table, interlacing his fingers as his expression becomes more serious.

“There is one more thing,” he pauses, scanning her face. He takes a deep breath. “Do you know… that the World Government has a law that prevents two individuals from being compelled to testify against each other?”

“I’m not familiar with it, no.”

“I am a man with many enemies, some too close to me for comfort. I have a complex business to run, a country to protect, and my duties as a Warlord to the World Government. And at every turn, I must be on my guard from traitors lurking amongst even my most trusted associates.” As he went on, the look in his eyes began to change. They lost a tinge of their sharpness, and the more Amora looked at Crocodile, the more she started to see just how tired he was. His proud shoulders sagged just a little, as though he was truly pushing himself just to maintain his intimidating composure. 

“That’s a heavy burden, Sir Crocodile,” she said, with just a sprinkle of softness. The man across from her didn’t respond; he looked away and receded into his chair, chin in his hand. He sat there for a moment, then poured himself a second glass of wine. Amora cleared her throat politely and asked, “So you plan to exploit this law?” He nodded.

“That’s where you come in, Ms. Drace. You’ve got no outside loyalties. Your talents suit my needs. What’s more, you’ve got incentive to be loyal to me beyond a paycheck.” He spoke to his wine glass, almost like he was still convincing himself this was a good idea.

“You want to ensure I have no reason to turn on you, and couldn’t be forced to by the World Government,” she concluded. Crocodile nodded his head, still preoccupied with his thoughts. Suspicion rose in Amora as she thought about the scheme. Surely a law like this would be exploited by all criminal enterprises if it were easy. “So then, what has to be done to take advantage of this law?” Crocodile let out a breath he was holding in, then threw back the rest of his wine like a shot. As the glass made contact with the table, he looked her in the eye.

“We have to get married.”

If Amora had been drinking anything, she would have choked. 

“What?!” She stared at him, at an absolute loss for words. This was ridiculous!  _ Married to Crocodile? _ What was he thinking?

“Only in the public eye and in the eye of the law. Your private life is your own. Functionally, we would be legally bound business partners,” he started, trying to ease her anger. “I assure you, this will have very little effect on your life, aside from some paperwork and public appearances.” Amora’s head spun. Sure, marriage held no sacred meaning for her, and she had long dismissed love as something that was not for her. But this? She stewed in her anger, searching for words. She thought about throwing her glass of wine in his stupid face. She thought about storming out, despite how both of these things could result in her getting turned over to the government or killed outright. Yet she contained herself, knowing she didn’t have many options at the moment.

“Well,  _ Sir Crocodile _ ,” she hissed, face full of rage she could not act on. “This arrangement certainly benefits  _ you _ . How do you expect me not to turn on you, now that you’ve backed me into a corner?”

“Because I’ll do anything you want.” 

“Oh sure you will,” Amora scoffed at him, arms folding. Crocodile leaned forward, his gaze on her intensifying.

“I mean what I say, Ms. Drace. I am aware that what I am asking for is extreme, but I am more than prepared to go to extreme lengths to compensate you. To any length.” 

“Really? Anything?” She mocked.

“Anything your heart desires will be yours,” he assured. “You want power? Kings will kneel at your feet. You want riches? It’s yours. If it can't be bought, I’ll have it stolen. If it can’t be stolen, I’ll conquer it. If I can’t conquer it, I’ll burn it to the ground for you.” His voice filled with passion as it rose in volume. 

“Would you kill for me?” She challenged through her teeth.

“By the thousands if you wished it.”

“Would you  _ die _ for me?”

“I’m quite difficult to kill, Ms. Drace,” he said, turning his hand to sand before her eyes. “But I will protect you no matter the cost.”

This wasn’t the first time a man swore he’d kill or die for her. It wasn’t the first time she disbelieved it either. She huffed, drumming her sharp nails on the arm of her chair. Leaning back in her chair, she stared at Crocodile. She let the silence take its toll on him, watching a bead of sweat roll from his temple to his sharp chin. His handsome features, broad shoulders… well, he wasn’t bad to look at. Quite the opposite. He had great taste in clothes and the wealth to fuel it. Not to mention, he came with power and protection like she had never known.  _ A lifetime of it.  _ She looked back at his eyes and saw a glimmer of the strangest thing: hope.

The pieces started to fall into place for Amora. The dark circles under his eyes, the obvious signs of exhaustion, the paranoia towards his advisors… She realized that despite having all this power, fame, and wealth, Crocodile had no one he could truly trust. He was profoundly and painfully alone. That was a feeling she knew as intimately as the inside of her mind. 

“Anything my heart desires,” she mused out loud, watching Crocodile snap to attention at her words. “Prove it.”

“Say the word and it’s yours,” he replied in a low voice. She thought about it, wanting to put his word to the test but still gain something from it. A wild goose chase means nothing, and so does something too easy. The answer crept into her mind, and she saw red.

“I want Captain Brass of Headwind Island dead,” she began, voice ice cold as she hissed his name. “And any officer who served under him.” 

“Consider it done.”

“I’ll consider it done when I watch the life drain from his eyes!” She slammed her fist on the table. Her shout hung in the air above them. Her fist trembled with rage as she bit her lip to hold it together. She was losing her composure. There were so many emotions running through her from this conversation and haunting memories peeking into the corners of her mind. When she felt a lump rising in her throat she turned from Crocodile, shielding her face with her hands. She willed herself to breathe normally, willed her shoulders to keep from shaking. She heard movement in the room, but didn’t dare to look. She would rather die than let someone see her make this face.

Polished shoes appeared before her. When she did not look up, he knelt to the ground to be closer to eye level. Gently he offered her a silk handkerchief from his breast pocket. She took it hesitantly, but used it to dab at her eyes, determined to keep tears from falling by force if she had to. He waited there, patiently, for her to regain her composure. Slowly she came back, straightening herself up, but still unwilling to look him in the eye. He gently reached out for Amora’s free hand, and to her surprise, she let him take it.

“I’m a man of my word, Ms. Drace,” he whispered soft and low. “I swear to place his head at your feet.” He lifted her hand to his lips, as he did when they met, for a chaste kiss. She finally looked at his face and saw the sincerity in his eyes. Something about this tender gesture made heat rise to her face, and she was grateful for her dark skin. They lingered there for a moment, but before things became too awkward, Amora spoke. 

“Well,” she forced a chuckle. “I hope you know I don’t cook. And I don’t clean.” Crocodile chuckled in return, rising and returning to his seat.

“I would never expect you to… So, are you amenable to the terms of our arrangement?” He asked, seating himself again.

“To be clear, would we need to act the part in public? Like a couple of lovebirds?”

“We need to be convincing, yes,” he sighed, as if it was the most demanding chore anyone had asked of him. She laughed, a sound that seemed to make the candles brighter.

“Oh come on, it won’t be that bad. I promise,” she cooed. It brought a smile to his lips but he shook his head. 

“Would you care for dessert, Ms. Amora?”

“Yes I believe I would, Sir Crocodile.”


	4. Playing and Planning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is this chapter a lot longer than the others? Yes. Consistency who? Never heard of her... I'm glad to start getting into the plot a little, hee hee. Leave a kudos or comment if you liked it please!

Crocodile watched the scotch in his glass swirl as he considered the last few days. He sure was going to great lengths because of her. Her. Amora Drace, woman of a thousand names, a rolling stone liable to roll right over you if you wronged her. Despite his best efforts, and the hard work of his associates in Baroque Works, he still couldn’t fully uncover who she was. It was as if she materialized out of ether 15 years ago on the East Blue, already a head-turning beauty with razor wit. It made it all the stranger that he couldn’t find a record of her early life. He wasn’t completely sure Amora was her birth name.

He let out a frustrated sigh. All this mystery surrounding her hung squarely in front of his face because he could not, for the life of him, find a connection between this “Captain Brass of Headwind Island” and his new partner. Brass was an extraordinarily small-time, jackboot nobody in charge of a marine detention facility on Headwind Island in the East Blue. This facility held very few individuals, ever, only mosquitoes that buzzed too close to the ear of the World Government at that. It was no Impel Down. 

To make things more difficult, he had promised Amora the captain and every officer that ever served under him. About a dozen people, total. All had to be secreted away from the East Blue and brought to Alabasta. Damn it, if he had only insisted on just bringing their heads to her… But he remembered the look in her eyes that night, and remembered the way her small frame turned from him and crumbled in on itself. He pinched the bridge of his nose. There is no world where he could be described as a sensitive man, and yet he wondered if he was next in the long line of suckers who thought they were smarter than Amora Drace. But he had work to do. Crocodile took a swig of his drink and got back to his tabulations. 

* * *

Amora sighed up at the ceiling of what she was starting to think of as her room. It was a large, well-decorated space with an adjoining private bathroom. The king size bed was downy, the thread count of the sheets astronomical, and the dressers fitted with polished brass drawer handles, yet it felt devoid of personality, like a hotel room. It felt so little like a home that she kept opening her empty suitcase to choose an outfit, only to remember they were in the closet. She imagined that in a few month’s time, she would start to get antsy from staying in one place so long. That is, if Crocodile kept his promise.

They made an agreement that their partnership, and marriage, would not begin until Crocodile presented Amora with the deaths of Captain Graff Brass and his officers. A morbid wedding present, sure, but it would show Amora whether or not Crocodile could be trusted, as well as give her piece of mind knowing Brass was dead. The thought of him made her hands shake with fury and fear, but the idea of watching him breathe his last in front of her quieted those feelings that roiled beneath her skin. She hoped his death would lay her haunted memories to rest. It had worked for her before. 

Since their partnership could not begin in earnest right now, Crocodile hadn’t given her much to do. He requested that she plan their fabricated romance for the public, but that was so simple for her. A few “chance” encounters, a few not-so-secret meetings, a clandestine kiss in the view of a schmuck with a camera would be all it takes to fan the tabloid flames into an inferno. Top it off with a public engagement in a classically romantic spot, like a fine dining restaurant, and you’ve cooked up a romance to swoon for. Point being, she was beginning to get bored. She sat up on her bed, resolving to rid herself of boredom by exploring the city and what it had to offer. She checked her wallet.  _ Ah. That’s right. I spent every berri I had. _ She shrugged. There was a casino upstairs, and she was eager for a game.

She stepped out of the VIP section of Rain Dinners in a slick black dress with midriff cutouts, scanning the room with sharp eyes for a mark. A few bachelors were out together for a boys day at the blackjack table, and a number of day drinking vacationers were at the roulette wheel. She dismissed the couples, it was easier to swindle people who had no one to check them on their decisions. She noted a few people of interest, then moved to the bar.

“Give me the most colorful virgin drink you have,” she said, leaning on the counter.

“Absolutely, Ms. Drace.”

“Oh? Do all the staff here know who I am?” She adjusted the neckline of her dress to show just the slightest bit of cleavage.

“Of course, Ms. Drace. Sir Crocodile said anything you ask for is on the house.” She smirked. This would be fun. 

A few hours later, Crocodile came walking through the doors of his casino. For an early evening, it was busier than usual. He surveyed the room with blank disdain before making eye contact with a bouncer that pointed to the poker tables in the back. An unmistakable head of white curls sat amongst the players, crowded by men and women alike just dying for a minute of her time. The crowd exclaimed with cheers and groans as she revealed her hand, taking the trick for what was obviously not the first time. Slowly he moved closer, just to hear what was going on.

“I can’t believe my luck! Thank you for letting me play with you, I had so much fun,” she cooed to the rest of the table, voice as sweet as whatever she had in her glass. 

“Oh Ms. Drace, don’t say you’re going! The night is so young!”

“Well.. I don’t know…” she teased.

“You don’t have to play every hand, doll. Come sit next to me and be my good luck charm. I’ll get you anything you like.”

“Oh, you’re such a sweet talker,” she purred. Crocodile almost smiled. Every one of these people was being conned, and they were loving every brainless second of it. Who wouldn’t? He reached over to an adjacent table, dragging a chair around the group to add himself to the table across from Amora. She stared at him, facade dropping for a moment in a look of true surprise. The table was hushed by the energy radiating off him as he took a pull from his cigar. He nodded to the dealer, tapping the table in front of him with the back of his hook. A wicked smile began to spread on Amora’s face as they were dealt in the next round. 

To say the energy between them across the table crackled with intensity each time they anted up would be a severe understatement; the rest of the players started to sweat bullets as their cards swam before their eyes. When Amora went all-in, the man next to her nearly passed out. The rest of the table folded and watched them face off.

“You can keep your chips, Ms. Drace.”

“Folding, Sir Crocodile?” She teased devilishly.

“Not quite,” he said, drumming his fingers on the edge of the felt. “Changing the bet. You win, I’ll give you a hundred thousand berri.” The crowd gasped. Women tapped Amora on the shoulder, urging her to fold. There’s no way he had a losing hand with a bet like that. But Amora knew the terms of their “partnership” meant she could ask him for the hundred thousand whether or not she won.

“That so?” Her eyebrows raised. “What would you get if you won then, Sir Crocodile?” 

“Join me for dinner,” he replied, the corner of his mouth smirking ever so slightly. Amora watched every man at the table whither at his words, knowing they were so out of their depth. She leaned forward, elbow on the table, chin resting on the back of her palm. What a curious thing to ask. 

“I’ll take that bet.”

She flipped her hand, revealing a flush, all diamonds. Crocodile grinned, smoothly flipping over his four kings and ace. The crowd started an uproar, but neither of them noticed. Amora looked over his smug face with curious eyes, but it gave nothing away.

“Cash her chips,” he told the dealer, rising from the table and moving to her side. “I believe we had a deal, Ms. Drace?” He extended his hand to her, and she took it, smiling.

“A deal’s a deal, Sir Crocodile.”

The second their server was out of earshot, Amora spoke up.

“What was all that about, Sir Crocodile?”

“I should be asking you that, Ms. Drace,” he chuffed. “You sharked my casino.” 

“I was just getting a little pocket money,” she brushed his question off. He cocked his head at her.

“I would have given you as much as you wanted. I thought I made the terms of our agreement very clear.” She twirled the pasta on her fork longer than needed.

“Well, you were busy,” she said, eyes on her plate. “Besides, I was bored. It’s been a while since I had a chance to work a room like that.” Crocodile hummed. She had a point, he had been away from the casino since the crack of dawn today. 

“I sent a large advance in the first letter.”

“I blew it all,” she admitted, glancing up at his expression that was quickly becoming a glare. She sat up straighter, challenging him. “What about it? I thought I was coming here to die. You Seven Warlords don’t exactly have merciful reputations. So I bought a few nice things to ease my sense of impending doom. What else was I supposed to do?” She stabbed into a shrimp on her plate with force that Crocodile knew she wanted to send his way. He took a slow sip of wine, just now realizing how frightening the first impression he had given his soon-to-be business partner must have been. He would need to fix that if they were to build trust between each other. 

“Ms. Drace,” he began softly. “I didn't mean to frighten you. But you are right, my reputation precedes me. I’ll… be more aware of this in the future.” Her eyes met his again, and he cleared his throat. “I’m a man of my word. I will protect you.” Something caught in Amora’s chest involuntarily. She was skeptical, at least she wanted to be, but there was an honesty in the depth of his voice that was hard to ignore. She sipped her wine, letting the silence grow a bit.

“I promise not to shark your casino again, Sir Crocodile.”

“I appreciate it, Ms. Drace.”

“I make no promises about the rest of the casinos and parlors in town,” she sassed. He had to let out a chuckle at that.

“You’re a handful, aren’t you Ms. Drace?” She shrugged.

“You’ve got a big hand.” He couldn’t stop the grin spreading on his face from her sense of humor, nor the strange warming in his chest.

* * *

From then on, Amora was never without cash, though occasionally she was out of things to do within Rain Dinners. It was about time for her to explore the town. As she was heading out, she caught sight of Crocodile.

“Going somewhere, Ms. Drace?”

“Just doing a little shopping, Sir Crocodile,” she smiled. “Nothing to worry about.” 

“Ms. Drace, I must insist you take a few of my men with you,” he urged. 

“I can handle myself just fine.”

“This is not a discussion of your aptitude, Ms. Drace. This is about your safety,” he explained sternly. “You have enemies, and I have more. You will not be leaving Rain Dinners without an escort.” The two glared at each other, trying to stare the other down. Eventually, Amora sighed.

“You would just have your people tail me if I refused, wouldn’t you?”

“You’re almost too clever for your own good, Ms. Drace,” he grinned triumphantly, the look in his eyes just a little too full of himself for her liking. She scowled and walked past him in a huff. “Have fun!” He called out over his shoulder. Oh, she could kill the man right now.

She left the casino with a pair of bodyguards in tow, marching into town to get that maddening man off her mind. He was far more intelligent than the type of person she usually dealt with, and the more intelligent business partners she had in the past had exploitable flaws that made them moldable. Lust was the easiest to exploit for her, but she could twist an ego almost as well. Most pirates were putty if you could flatter their pride, but it wasn’t that Crocodile had none. It was that he was so secure in it that frustrated her. He didn’t need anyone to tell him he was smart or powerful, he knew it in his bones. The only thing she could see as a vulnerability was his distrust of others, and she definitely didn’t want to egg that on. Paranoia isn’t exactly business’s best friend. 

She sighed as heads turned to follow her in the street. Maybe a little retail therapy could help her out of her funk. She took mental note of the shops she passed, scouting cafes and restaurants that could serve as good fake date spots. Ugh, even when she was trying to put him out of her mind, Crocodile popped up. She marched into the first salon she found.

“You do nails here, right? I need a pedicure.”

An hour later, she exited the salon with a fresh polish on her nails that was jet black and glossy like obsidian. She passed a paper bag full of skin and hair care products to the hands of one suited bodyguard without blinking at him, striding to the next store on her proverbial hit list. She tried on a truly monumental amount of clothes, taking with her anything that struck her fancy. A belt with a jeweled snake on it, lace gloves, silk blouses, and sandals that were fit for walking in desert towns were among the selection. She smiled to herself as she even picked out a new purse; this was almost like going through a wardrobe change whenever she swapped aliases. It was a time to reinvent herself, to challenge her sense of style and expression. Though it usually came with buying a hair dye or wig, which she was glad to skip. She hated the maintenance on her white roots whenever she had to dye her hair. And a wig? In this heat? She’d rather be bald. 

When she strut into the street, depositing her purchases in the silently agitated arms of her bodyguards, she eyed the Alabastian citizens over the rim of her sunglasses. One day they wouldn’t be so stunned by her walking out of every store, cleaning them out of their latest fashions, but that day wasn’t today. She left a note at the front desk of her favorite stores here with instructions to send her a notice when the newest season of high-fashion items came in stock and sashayed back to Rain Dinners with all her spoils. 

She would have loved to walk past Crocodile right now, with her parade of shopping bags in tow, but he was nowhere to be found. It didn’t surprise Amora. Crocodile was a busy man, and likely had much more to do than he let on. She was certain he was keeping quite a number of less than legal activities from her until after their partnership was finalized. It wasn’t any skin off her nose. Her criminal record would be cleared thanks to him, and he has far more to fear from her exposing his secrets than she could ever lose from whatever nefarious plots he would drag her into in the future. Whatever he was up to, she would make certain that if he went down, she would be nowhere to be found. 

* * *

They were on fake date number two, at a partially secluded table in the back of a ritzy cafe in the afternoon. Amora’s nails clicked when she picked up her delicate cup of tea, looking over the steam at her business partner, Crocodile. He had brought a newspaper with him, and was currently reading through it intensely. Her eyebrow twitched. Was he trying to make this harder? 

“Interesting news, Sir Crocodile?” She asked, keeping her voice as low as possible. He shrugged one shoulder and hummed in response, further fueling her ire. “You know, most people don’t bring reading material on a date.”

“I’m not most people,” he replied nonchalantly. She wanted to reach across the table and yank him by his stupid cravat. 

“Are you purposefully trying to make my job harder?” She hissed under her breath as she took a sip. He popped an eyebrow up, finally look at her over the top edge of the paper.

“I wasn’t aware newspapers were such a bane on your productivity, Ms. Drace,” he mused sarcastically. It took all her energy not to roll her eyes.

“You’re aware you look completely disinterested in this date, right?” This seemed to sink in a little, as he glanced around the cafe. He folded the newspaper reluctantly, removing the corner from where it was impaled on his hook. Amora studied him carefully before leaning close to whisper “When was the last time you actually went on a date?”

“I am not answering that,” he growled, picking up his coffee for a sip. 

“That tells me all I need to know.” He almost spat his drink out but covered it with a few quick coughs and a death glare in his partner’s direction. She sighed, taking another sip of tea. This would be more difficult than she originally thought. “Give me a minute to think. I can salvage this.” She furrowed her brow and pondered for a bit, and though he thought about getting his newspaper back out, he refrained. 

“I’ve got it. Follow my lead.”

“Lead, Ms. Drace.” She smiled sweetly at him.

“We’re pretending to have a conversation. Pretend you’re enjoying it,” she explained, too quiet to be heard by others but in full view of a waitress who thought she was being sneaky.

“Oh, I’m pretending all right,” he grinned at her. If this was a real date, she would have already thrown her hot tea in his face. 

“I’m pointing at the newspaper. Now I’m asking you a question about it.” She pantomimed theatrically, but not too overdone. He had to admit she was a good actress.

“I’m raising my eyebrows and answering your question. I’m pointing to the newspaper this time.”

“You catch on quick, Sir Crocodile,” she mused.

“I’m not an idiot, Ms. Drace,” he said, pleased with himself. 

“Not right this minute at least,” she teased. She hid a snicker behind her cup of tea as he steamed across the table at her. “Next, I’m going to move my chair up next to yours. You’re going to put your arm around me, and we’re going to read that paper together.”

“No.”

“Listen, this way you get to read your paper and we don’t have to pretend to talk,” she explained, still smiling like she didn’t just suggest something he thought was outlandish. “Trust me, this will be easy.”

“You certain this won’t just embarrass me in public, Ms. Drace?” 

“If you can’t put your arm around me for twenty minutes, our fake marriage is doomed!” She gave a little fake giggle, but the look in her eyes was as serious as a stroke. He thought about it for a minute, and couldn’t find a flaw with her logic. He relented.

“Alright, get over here.” She brought her chair around the table to be flush next to his, and sat daintily. He put his arm over her shoulders, leaning back to spread the paper wide in front of them. They were both tense at first, trying to get comfortable without touching the other person too much. Amora reached into her bag and pulled a book from it.

“What was that you said about bringing reading material on a date?” He scowled at her. 

“I brought it with me to read after, but if you feel compelled to read instead of speaking, I don’t see the harm in doing some reading myself,” she replied, not sweating for a second under his glare. He felt some guilt at this comment. He may not have meant to, but he was making her job of crafting their fake romance harder. 

“I’ll remember for next time,” he grumbled, still a little angry with her. They read in silence, slowly relaxing next to each other. He looked down to the book in her lap, seeing it was some sort of drama novel. “What are you reading?”

“It’s a murder mystery series,” she explained, flipping the cover over to show him. “I’m all caught up, so I’m just rereading it.”

“Is the series finished?”

“No,” she sighed. “The author hasn’t published the next book yet as far as I know. I’ve been waiting a year for it.”

“I have an extensive collection of books in my personal library, you know,” he posited. “They’re in the study. You’re welcome to them, Ms. Drace.” Her eyes snapped up to him, almost sparkling.

“You have a library?” He nodded, smirking at the way her face lit up.

“I do. As I said, you’re welcome to it,” he continued. “You like to read?”

“It’s my favorite thing to do.”

“Really? I would think a casino shark and socialite would rather be out on the town,” he mused. 

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Sir Crocodile,” she bristled. “You best not assume I’m just a pretty face.”

“Duly noted.”

“That’s right. I also have killer legs.” A low, rumbling chuckle came from his chest. Amora laughed a little too. 

* * *

“You’re the one who said we have to make this believable, Sir Crocodile. Or have you changed your mind?” Amora folded her arms at the man across the desk.

“No,” he grumbled. “But this is ridiculous. We do not need to practice.” 

“Sir Crocodile. Did you not entrust me to make the arrangements for our charade? I seem to remember you saying-”

“I know what I said,” he snapped. Amora took a deep breath and let it out in a huff.

“Then believe me when I say that if we look stiffer than a board,  _ not a goddamn soul _ will believe we’re getting married because we’re in love.” She stared him down across the dark wood of his desk, sitting in his well-lit study. She was right, and he knew it, but absolutely no part of him was interested in practice kissing like some 12 year old boy. He knows how to kiss a woman. Amora raised her eyebrows at him, waiting. He made a show of rolling his eyes.

“Fine,” he bit out. “If it’ll get you to stop.”

“Anything my heart desires, remember?” She teased. He groaned, resting his cigar on his ashtray. He was starting to regret being so liberal with his choice of words. He stood, rounding his desk in a few short steps. Amora stood as well, craning her neck upwards to look at him. He bent his head down to her, giving her flat peck on the lips. She frowned up at him. 

“Are you made of cardboard?” He cleared his throat, a bit of embarrassment creeping up on him. Maybe it had been a while since his last kiss. He bent down again, slower this time, leaving a chaste kiss on her lips. She still looked disappointed when he pulled away. 

“Shall I give a demonstration?” She asked, hands on her hips. Eyes turned away, he slowly bent to her, giving her reluctant permission to take the lead. Her arms snaked around his neck, gently, fingers joining at the base. He sucked in a breath the moment her skin brushed him. She pulled him closer till her full lips met his. He felt his body go rigid for half a second as she softly kissed him, but he eased shortly and pressed his lips back into hers in return. It was as if a light flicked on in an abandoned room in his mind, that’s how long it had been since he last trusted anyone to be so close to him, to have him in such a compromising state. He had been so starved for touch that this practice kiss with his business partner electrified him. She pulled back all too soon, looking up at him with a smile. 

“Now,” she whispered. “You try.”

Before he could think, his lips were already on hers, gentler than he thought he could ever be, but kissing her like it was the only thing that would make him feel human again. He felt her gasp against his lips as he wrapped an arm around her waist, bringing her into his chest. She kissed him back, teasing at his bottom lip in a way that sent shivers down his spine. 

A few moments later, they parted, breathless, with a flush in both their faces. Sanity started to return to Crocodile and he straightened up, avoiding eye contact at all costs. Amora cleared her throat as she let go of him fully, and he couldn’t help the small ache he felt when she did. He reached over and got his cigar, taking a long drag as he looked out the window. 

“Well,” Amora sighed. “That went well. Do you feel we need more practice?” Crocodile stared out the window for a long time, so Amora couldn’t read his face.

“Maybe a little more,” he spoke, voice soft and deep. Amora felt her chest flutter at the thought. 

* * *

Something was off. Crocodile threw another snack down to his Banana Gators, brow furrowed. It nagged at him in the back of his mind, like he was forgetting something. He racked his brain, tapping his hook on the back of the chair beside him. Mr. Five called perfectly on schedule, he finished his tabulations, and he made that public appearance cutting the ribbon on the new wing of his hotel… what was missing? 

_ Oh _ . He hadn’t seen Amora all day.

It wasn’t like they spent all their time together, but he saw her at least once a day since she arrived. Between their staged public appearances and private business meetings, they would sometimes run into each other in the casino and play a few rounds of poker. It was unusual not to see her, and unusual was usually bad in Crocodile’s experience. He finished giving his pets their treats and left to find her. 

She wasn’t in the study, or in her room. He bit down on his cigar in frustration. He would have to resort to asking his employees if they had seen her. He promised her safety, and he’d be damned if he was proved a liar before he could even get a ring on her finger.

“Freed,” he barked, the older gentleman snapping to attention like a soldier. “Where is Ms. Drace?”

“S-Sir Crocodile! Yes, Ms. Drace,” he stumbled over his words. “We sent members of the staff to follow her whenever she left the premises, as you requested.”

“Where. Is. She.”

“Ah! She’s at a bar in town, sir. The Proud Pike is the name,” he weaseled. “She’s been there all day according to the staff we sent to watch her.” Crocodile hummed. He knew the name, but had never been. It was a dive on its best nights. Why would a woman like Amora want to go there instead of any other place in town? She could have been playing the crowd at a casino or getting free drinks at the bar here in Rain Dinners. He resolved to get to the bottom of it himself, but not dressed like the Desert King. Oh no, he had a reputation to maintain.

“Good work,” he grunted before turning to sand before Freed’s eyes, sailing through the halls. He quickly changed into something less conspicuous; a button up shirt, dress pants, and a loose jacket, all black. He slipped his rings off his hand and swapped his trademark golden hook for a smaller, less ostentatious silver one that he had worn more often as a younger man. He glanced in the mirror, pausing before running his hand through his hair and tossing it. He disliked the disheveled look, but it concealed at least part of his face and that was what mattered. His body spun into sand again, this time sailing out of his casino and above the streets of Rainbase. 

The Proud Pike Poolhall was barely what it’s name implied. Two pool tables as unlevel as they were worn sat off to the right as he entered, scanning the bar sharply. There were a handful of more shifty patrons, but it was mostly working class locals and looked safer than he originally expected. He could breathe a little. There were a few women in the establishment, but one stood out. At the corner of the bar was a dark skinned lady slouched over the bar alone, white hair pulled into a low ponytail. If her natural features weren’t so distinctive, he may not have recognized her, dressed down in her cropped pants and off the shoulder tee. He didn’t even know she owned clothes so casual. 

When he realized a few of the regulars were starting to stare at him, he ducked his head to enter though the low door frame. He slowly approached the bar, trying not to draw attention to himself, and sat next to Amora. She said nothing as he sat, didn’t even glance his way, sipping on her rum. He flagged the bartender for a whiskey neat, waiting. As his drink slid across the bar into his hand, she spoke up.

“Twelve.”

“Hmm?”

“You’re number twelve,” she sighed, leaning her elbows on the bar. “Twelfth man to slide up to me at this bar tonight.” Her tone was flat, somewhere between bored and annoyed. She still hadn’t looked at him. “Well? What’s your line, big guy?”

“Line?” He took a sip of his drink and tried not to make a face. God, it even tasted cheap. 

“C’mon. Get your cheesy one-liner out so I can get on with my night,” she snapped. It was clear that she thought he was someone else, or at least that she didn’t recognise him. He studied her face, her slouched shoulders, watching her blank, unfocused eyes stare at the bar counter. Her lips were creased in an iron frown.

“Don’t have one,” he grumbled, taking another swig of cheap liquor. “You look miserable.” She suddenly threw her head back with a dry cackle of laughter.

“You-” she laughed stiffly. “Are a horrible flirt.” Crocodile cocked an eyebrow at her, watching the way she wobbled on the barstool as she came back to her original slouch. She was  _ extremely _ intoxicated. She took another swig of her drink and sat in silence. He was almost impressed at how hard she was ignoring him. 

“There’s lots of nicer places to get wasted,” he prompted. This situation piqued his interest more by the second. 

“Cheaper booze gets you wasted quicker,” she shrugged. “You try  _ not _ to taste it.” She threw the rest of her rum back, flagging the bartender for another round. If this continued for too much longer, he might have to carry her back to her room. As her next drink arrived, she finally turned to him with eyes that held no recognition of who he was. “Look. I’m not interested.” Crocodile hummed in response, resting an elbow on the bar. She huffed and swore under her breath, turning away from him to her drink. A few minutes of silence passed between them, Crocodile becoming more and more annoyed at the tacky decor and horrible music being piped through the speakers here. What was that on the wall, a taxidermied fish head? Disgusting.

“Actually,” Amora began, “If you’re not gonna bother me, I’ll pay you to just sit here. Keep people from talking to me. Deal?” She slid a couple thousand berries his way. She truly must not have any idea who he is if she’s handing him back his own money. He slowly took the bills from her and pocketed them, watching her give a satisfied smirk. He waited quite a while before speaking again, but he couldn’t keep his curiosity totally silent.

“Why get so wasted? You trying to meet the devil?” She breathed a small chuckle. 

“Maybe. What do you care?” 

“Curiosity,” he shrugged, lying only partially. He was starting to worry this might be a regular habit of his soon-to-be partner, and that wouldn’t be acceptable. She stared at the bottles on the shelf, eyes glassy. He was about to get frustrated with her silence when she cleared her throat.

“It’s my birthday.” Now that surprised him. He took a slow sip of his drink, eyes on her expression for any changes. Her mouth curled into a sneer. “Thirty. Fucking. Six.” Another surprise. She certainly didn’t look like she was getting close to 40. 

“This doesn’t seem like much of a celebration.”

“Why the fuck would I want to celebrate it?” She hissed at him. Her emotions seemed to spin like a prize wheel in her drunken state. He let her rage settle before even thinking about asking another question, but he didn’t need to. She continued after taking another swig. “Got no one I would want to celebrate it with either.” 

“You could celebrate with anyone,” he argued, ignoring how it stung that he was included in the list of people she wouldn’t want to be with on her birthday.

“Sometimes,” she sighed. “Faking happy with strangers is worse than just being sad on your own.” He watched her swirl the ice cubes in her drink, taking in her downcast eyes and tired exhales. It reminded him of a certain look he’d seen in his mirror more than a few times. 

“Mm-hmm,” he agreed, dropping his gaze to his own drink. “A crowded room is lonelier than the desert.” Amora looked to the man on her left with a little surprise, taking in his image for the first time. He was larger than life, his hand absolutely dwarfing the glass of whiskey. She couldn’t see his face well through the curtain of black hair that came to just below his chin, but she made out his angular features outlined in the dim light of the bar. He might even be handsome if she was in the mood. She wasn’t, but his presence was surprisingly bearable with how unassuming and understanding he had been.

“Seems we’re of similar minds, you and I,” she admitted, turning away before he caught her looking at him. He hummed back at her in response, finishing his drink. He rapped his knuckles on the bar for another round, which Amora swooped in to pay for before he could say anything.

“That’s not necessary,” he defended, but she threw up a hand to stop him. 

“Save it, big guy.” He grumbled, but didn’t protest further, not wanting to make her angry with him just as she was starting to talk about what was going on. “I actually  _ don’t  _ hate you.”

“That so?” He teased.

“Don’t push your luck.” He chuckled low in his throat. It was bizarre and amusing to hear someone talking down to him like this. He was sure her attitude would be different if she recognised him. They let the conversation lull, till Amora took a big gulp of her rum and spoke.

“Do you ever… Ever wonder what the point is?”

“Point of what?”

“... Being alive,” she confessed softly into the floorboards beneath her. He could see her bite her lip, holding something inside her chest like it was ready to burst. He hummed softly, making a small gesture with his hand to invite her to continue. She saw, and slowly began again. “Like… Living isn’t easy. I have to work so hard just to not end up on the wrong end of a gun. Just to live another day. Live another year. And for what? Just to be alone, and stay alone. Because alone is how you stay alive.”

It was hard to swallow the whiskey as he went for a drink. The unexpected openness sent his pulse pounding to his ears. Crocodile was struggling to keep his discomfort from showing, made worse every second by how familiar that sentiment was to him. After half the glass was gone, he breathed again, still looking away from her.

“Seems we’re of similar minds,” he admitted with a rasp that he definitely attributed to the cheap whiskey and nothing else. Amora looked up at the man next to her, mouth open and speechless. She had been chastising herself for dumping her depressed thoughts on a stranger, but now felt this tug of kinship in her chest. There was a deeply drunk part of her mind that wanted to be held in this moment, looking at his strong arms and wanting to fall into them if only to feel less alone. She hummed back at him, pushing the impulse down with another drink. She fiddled with her nails to distract herself from how vulnerable she felt. Crocodile struggled with what to say, but not because he had nothing to say. He struggled with bringing these thoughts up from the pit of his stomach, to show anything other than strength. He brought Amora to Alabasta to have a partner he could trust. He knows he’s supposed to trust her, even that he needs to in order to keep his sanity alive enough to run his operations. He knows, and yet he feels decades of walls he built towering over him. He throws the rest of his drink back, trying not to break the cheap glass as he did so. Staring straight ahead, he goes out on a limb against his better judgement.

“Come with me,” he said, not quite asking but nervous enough to sound like a question. “I want to show you something.”

“If it’s your dick, I don’t wanna see it.” He choked on his laughter, god, her humor shattered the tension every time. Amora thought his laughter sounded nice, almost familiar.

“No, no it’s not, I swear,” he assured her. He turned to look at her, their eyes meeting. “Come with me?” He asked for real this time. Amora finished her drink and sighed.

“Well, what the hell. I guess,” she shrugged, wobbling as she slid off the barstool. “I got nothing to lose anyway.” Crocodile slapped the cash she handed him earlier on the bar and swiftly offered his arm to her for balance. She took it gladly, knowing walking was going to be a challenge for her. Squeezing his arm for stability as they left the poolhall, she was shocked at all the muscle he was hiding under that jacket. 

Crocodile couldn’t help but feel some relief as he walked Amora away from that place. At least she would be out of harm’s way, even if it meant that he might risk opening up to her a fraction himself. She was wobbling on her feet, clutching on to him for fear of falling, but he wasn’t worried. He had been using his devil fruit to stabilize the sand beneath her feet since the second they stepped outside. She pulled herself closer to him, he assumed for balance, but he glanced down to see her tremble in the chill of the desert night. He stopped walking, pulling his jacket from his shoulders and placing it around hers.

“Oh! You don’t have to-”

“Nonsense,” he cut her off, pulling the jacket closed around her. “You’ll freeze.” A blush spread to her cheeks as she weaved her arms into the too long sleeves, bunching them at the wrists to free her hands. She took his arm again, shyly this time, and kept walking. 

“Thank you,” she whispered. He said nothing, so neither did she as she held herself close to him, the warmth in his jacket soothing her somehow. 

Crocodile started to experiment with what he could do with his sand without Amora noticing. They couldn’t just walk back to his casino like this, and the chances that someone would recognise him increased with every building they passed. He started to make the sand rise before them, lifting them into the air subtly. He pushed a little farther, rising them higher in the air, and felt her head lean against his arm. He looked at her, thinking she noticed, but saw that he had nothing to worry about. Her eyes were closed as she leaned into him, smiling softly. He snapped his head back in front of them, focusing on flying them to their destination and not thinking about what that soft look on her face did to his brain.

“We’re here,” he said, watching her eyes pop open and look around in confusion.

“What? I don’t even remember going inside…” She scanned all around them looking for familiarity.

“Well, you are quite drunk,” he mumbled, lying as he let go of her arm now that they were on solid stone. His heart beat forcefully in his chest. No one but he knew about this place. In fact, you can’t even get here unless you can fly. But he brought her here.

“Oh jeez… I’m sorry, I didn’t know I was this drunk,” Amora laughed sheepishly. She took in the scenery of the balcony that they were on. There was no door to the building behind her from what she could tell, but maybe it was a sliding one she couldn’t see. The solid white stone that made up the floor and railing was brilliant white, bleached from the desert sun. There was one large chair here, and a coffee table with a few boxes on it. It slowly dawned on her that they must have gone to his place. Her face flushed at the thought. 

“Well,” she said, clearing her throat. “What did you want to show me?” He put a hand on her shoulder and turned her around, gently guiding her to the railing. She looked over it and let out a yelp at how high up they were, jumping back into the broad chest of the man behind her.

“Easy, easy. I won’t let you fall,” he reassured, keeping his hand on her shoulder. He watched her take a deep breath before putting her hands on the railing. “Look up.” She gasped when she did.

Up there, high above the city, she could see every star in Alabasta’s cloudless night sky. Maybe it was all the rum, but there was something more breathtaking about being able to see the endless expanse of lights against the pitch black right now. She could make out colors of the heavenly bodies clearer than she had ever seen them, all surrounding the bright pale moon that shone on the desert below. 

“Wow… is it like this every night in Alabasta?”

“When the sandstorms settle, yes,” he replied, taking in the sight himself. He couldn’t look at her, not when he was going to say things he would barely think aloud in his head. He kept taking in big breaths, getting ready to start, but not finding the sounds when he would exhale. God he needed a smoke. He reached behind him with his sand, fishing a cigar out and lighter out of the stash he kept here. “Mind if I smoke?”

“Not at all,” she replied, watching him pull a cigar from seemingly nowhere to his lips. “It’s your place, after all.” He stared out at the sky, taking a few puffs before turning away to breathe out a cloud of haze. Amora lied a little when she told him she didn’t mind. She minded not having the feeling of his warm hand on her shoulder. She sighed a little, returning her gaze to the moon and stars above. Crocodile definitely felt a little more at ease now, though he still could feel his heart squeezing in his chest. But he could speak to her now, and that’s what he wanted.

“You know, before we had log poses and fancy instruments, we used to sail by the stars,” he explained. Amora nodded, and he continued. “Some are useful every night, like the North Star. Some are only useful at certain times, like the Dawn Star. Most aren’t helpful at all unless you can see others in its constellation.” He took a pause for breath. Talking about the stars was the easy part.

“Uh-huh,” Amora confirmed, staring up at the lights. She looked so small wrapped in his jacket, white hair almost glowing from the moonbeams falling on her. He took a deep breath, like he was getting ready to dive underwater.

“When you’re lost at sea, the stars are there to guide you. Whether you deserve it or not,” he continued, voice getting softer now. “When everything, and everyone, lets you down, they won’t.” He glanced down at the small woman next to him, watching her wrap her arms around herself and dig her nails in. He started to reach out to her, but caught himself. 

“That so?” She whispered, voice wavering for just a moment. 

“That’s what I tell myself anyway,” he mumbled. “It's… not much, but I hope it helps you, if only a little.” He took a long drag from his cigar, half kicking himself for getting so open with her before their partnership was in writing, half wishing he had the guts to say something better than that. The parts of him that used to give a shit about people were so damn rusted up he couldn’t get them to budge even when he wanted to. If he wanted to, he corrected himself. He felt something brush his arm, looking down to see her head leaned gingerly on his arm.

“And the moon? Does it do anything?” The corners of his lips pulled slightly, something like a sad smile coming to his face.

“The moon controls the pull of the tides. She keeps track of the days with her shape,” he explained.

“The moon’s a woman?”

“Course she is,” he scoffed. “Anything that beautiful has to be.” He heard her giggle softly at that.

“Well then, does  _ she _ do anything else?” He thought for a moment before answering.

“Sometimes, she’s the only light you’ve got.” Silence settled over them on the balcony, Amora leaning gently on his arm as he smoked his cigar. It took Crocodile a minute or two to realize his heart was no longer trying to come through his shirt, shocked at how relaxed he was in this moment. For the first time in nearly twenty years, he shared a piece of himself with someone, and it hadn’t backfired on him. Well, it hadn’t backfired yet, at least. He still hadn’t solidified their partnership, so this could still come back to bite him, but he would at least enjoy this moment of peace for as long as he could. 

“Oh,” Amora spoke up after a little while. “I’m terribly sorry, I never got your name.” 

_ Ah. There it was. Instant karma. _

He felt his breath catch in his throat and hold it like a vice. If he could vanish in a flash of sand right then, he would have. What if she hated him for deceiving her? What if he had already ruined everything? As his mind was racing, Amora turned to look at him with significantly sobered eyes. She looked at him closely, starting to realize that he was much more familiar than she originally thought. She just had to see his face a little clearer…

A slender hand gingerly lifted the hair that had been obscuring half his face. He jumped and recoiled at the touch, cigar nearly falling out of his mouth as Amora gasped.

“... Sir Crocodile?” His brow furrowed, and he ran his hand through his hair to push it all back in his usual style. He looked her in her wide eyes but said nothing. He just waited for the axe to fall. 

“It was you… this whole time?”

He nodded. 

Her face was full of surprise and confusion as she stared at him for what felt like an eternity. Then, to his shock, she smiled up at him softly.

“You’re quite the gentleman, aren’t you?” She turned, still smiling, back to the railing and up at the sky. He couldn’t grasp what was happening.

“I… don’t understand,” he admitted.

“You’ve been kind to me, even though I was awfully rude to you,” she explained. “You even gave me your jacket.”

“I was just doing what I had to,” he bluffed. She didn’t buy it.

“Why are you dressed like that though? And why were you in that shitty bar?” She wondered out loud, watching him approach again from the corner of her eye. He didn’t have time to answer before she gasped and guessed herself. “You were worried about me, weren’t you?” The teasing tone in her voice irked him.

“I can’t have you disappearing or dying on me before our partnership even begins, Ms. Drace,” he growled. She just laughed again.

“Oh of course,” she teased. He crossed his arms and blew a large cloud of smoke over the balcony. His anger started to rise from a simmer until he felt a familiar soft touch on his arm. She had rested her head on him again, leaning a little more into him than before. When she placed a gentle hand on his arm just below her chin, he felt all of that anger evaporate.

“Thank you, Sir Crocodile.” He saw her close her eyes again, with that same soft expression she wore before she knew who she walked with. That tender peace returned to him as well, and stayed in his chest as he escorted her back to her room later that night. 

“You should get some rest, Ms. Drace,” he suggested, coming to a stop in front of her room. She started to shimmy his jacket off her shoulders, but he pulled it right back on her frame. “Just send it to the cleaners in the morning.” She blinked up at him, a soft blush on her dark cheeks. 

“Thank you again, Sir Crocodile,” she murmured. “For everything.” He pulled his cigar from his lips, smirking slightly. Instead of replying, he simply lifted her hand with his hook and pressed his lips to her knuckles.

“Goodnight, Ms. Drace.” 

“Goodnight, Sir Crocodile,” she returned, slipping behind the door to her room. It filled him with a strange sense of pride, to see that flush on her face, hear that shyness to her normally confident voice tonight. He didn’t know why, but he didn’t bother with wondering. He was busy thinking of a gift for her. It was her birthday after all, and it was bad taste for her business partner not to get her one. 


End file.
